I finally pulled all the bolting greens and fed some of them to the goats next door. I have a terrible fear that I will feed those goats something as innocuous as bolted collard greens and then one of them will die and it will be all my fault.
I have a rich fantasy life.
So okay, I went through my clothes today. As part of my rich fantasy life, I always think I'll get rid of things. But I don't. I just don't. All right, I did throw out a bunch of underwear I'm never going to wear again and a few shirts but this is how crazy I am- I have an entire bin of clothes I will never wear again in my life unless I get some dread disease in which case all I'll need is an old nightgown and not ten pairs of men's Levi's and some nice linen skirts. What the fuck is wrong with me?
Oh well. I have the room and if I keep all that shit it's not hurting anyone and there you go.
But things are more tidy and that feels good and I have the greens simmering and the angel biscuit dough is made and I've figured out how long I need to cook the ham tomorrow and I did four loads of laundry and cleaned out the old poopy hay in the hen house and the baby chicken shelter and put down fresh hay for their little feathery butts.
Speaking of butts, the other day Owen was talking about baboons. "You know," he said, "those things that have blue faces and red asses?"
I was a bit taken aback. I had never heard him use the word "ass" before.
However, I tried not to make a big deal of it and it's not a big deal. Ass is a perfectly acceptable word in my book.
"Yes," I said. "I do."
And that was that.
Mr. Moon went to a festival downtown today to meet up with Lily and Jason and the boys. He parked in a lot that had no signs posted concerning the illegality of parking there but his car got towed. Now if that had happened to me, I would have freaked out and just paid the fee to get my car back and probably cried and so forth. But not Mr. Moon. He actually got a police officer to walk around the lot with him to witness the fact that there were no signs posted and then to call the towing company to tell them that they had illegally towed that car. By the time it was all over, he had the car back and had paid no fee.
So good on him.
Do not fuck with Mr. Moon.
When he came back, we fed cut-up grapes to the baby chickens.
Well, I better get off my butt or ass or whatever you want to call it ("buttocks" is a personal favorite) and go fold the last load of laundry and put it all away and then Mr. Moon and I are going to play cards and listen to Prairie Home Companion.
Saturday. A good one. And tomorrow I get to eat ham which is the ass or butt or buttocks of a pig.
The so-very-tasty ass or butt or buttocks.